The evening stands still, warm wind flows with a kind whisper. There's no rush.
He sips a glass of red wine and smokes a cigarette, his only vice.
Looking onto the harbour the Sun sets and only the waves of the ocean are heard.
He stumps out his last cigarette, it was a hard day.
Exhaling, he breaths out bitterness and looks to the next day. Only with determination to be with God and God only.
People come and go, good people and bad, they are always far away, distant. Only God is close. The like minded are few and far between, only two or three. God persists and is always there.
As he reclines onto his chair he rubs his head and then his face, no worries only patience, no worries only courage. He soon sleeps.
Woken by the toll of a church bell, he stands and looks to the veranda to see the rising sun. A new life he thinks.
He unties his boat and sets sail.
